Cracks In The Foundation
by PoppingVestButtons
Summary: With a betrayal waging war between them, can Jane and Lisbon come together and forgive each other before the cracks in their strong foundation begin to grow? With Lisbon's reputation and very life in jeopardy, Jane must decide where his own loyalties lie, and just how much he's willing to let go of his broken soul. Veers into AU after 6.08. Ongoing. R R appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

I hope you enjoy this. It is cannon until 6.08. What if Lisbon would have stopped Red John that day and not let Jane do it himself? Hopefully this will be of interest to you. Thank you. -PVB

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 **Cracks In The Foundation - Chapter 1**

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His eyes were angry. She noticed the deep frown reflecting in the attic window's glass, and she felt a pang of apprehension. She knew with complete and utter certainty that he would not hurt her—at least not physically. Emotionally was another matter, and, as she neared him, it became apparent that he'd rather she not be here right now. She almost listened to her inner self and turned to leave him be for a while, but there was too much that needed to be resolved. There were too many things that needed a devil's advocate. Too many things needed to be cut and bled out in the open if there was any hope to salvage what happened from the ashes of Red John's death.

"Please go away," he growled softly. "I don't want to speak to you right now."

 _Right now_. Well, at least he still felt he'd talk to her sooner or later. She sighed and moved a little closer to him, leaving enough space as to not oppress him.

"You are acting childish, Jane, and I want you to stop it," said Lisbon bluntly. "You've been distant and pushing me away and I'm tired of it." That was an understatement, but she'd leave it go for now.

He was up from his chair so quick that she almost stumbled back. His eyes flashed and his hands stood slack against his narrow hips. He took two calming breaths before he shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"He was _mine_ , Teresa, _mine_ ," he told her. "You took away my chance at revenge! I am pushing you away because I can't even imagine how I am going to get over this."

"I saved your ass, Jane," Lisbon replied. "You were going to kill him, Jane! Waste your whole life rotting in prison!" She could feel her cheeks burn crimson as his eyes continued their intense burning into hers. "And for what, ten minutes of satisfaction before you realized it was the wrong goddamn decision?" Anger surged through her.

"I would have been where I knew I was going to end up! And, I wasn't going to do it for the satisfaction, Lisbon! I was going to give him the same treatment he gave my wife and child! You knew where I was going, and you lent me your car knowing you were going to follow me and take matters into your own hands. I thought we trusted each other." He sighed heavily and finally lowered his gaze and shook his head. "I guess not."

"He's dead! DEAD!" She was loud and she didn't care. He couldn't see the favor she's done him. "He's gone, which is what you wanted."

She shivered at the thought of Red John—McAllister—becoming surprised as she pushed her way into the church after killing one of his guards outside. She could still feel the way her heart pounded as she pointed her Glock right at Red John's chest and ordered him to drop his weapon. Instead of complying with her command, he aimed it squarely at her chest, and her cop instincts told her to defend herself, which she did. But more than the crack of her gun going off, the most disturbing thing about that day was Jane's reaction to it; blank and almost expressionless as he watched Red John bleed to death in front of him, knowing he didn't get his shot to exact his revenge.

"I wanted to do it myself," he told her, his voice soft but ready to roar under the surface. "All of these years…all of these things that led me to what I needed to do, and you destroyed it."

"You should thank me!" she cried in disbelief. "He's dead and he can't hurt another person, Jane! He can't claim someone else's family! Isn't that good enough?"

He chuckled without humor lacing it. "If I would have been left to my own devices, I would have eliminated him from doing that, too, while fulfilling my own quest."

She didn't think anything she'd say next would be helpful or do anything to lift his mood. He clearly couldn't see the bigger picture, and she wasn't going to push him. She hadn't forgotten his stint in Dr. Miller's care, and she didn't want that to happen again. She exhaled a short breath and shook her chestnut locks.

"I know you're upset with me, and I am sorry for that," she said, "but I am not sorry for killing him in self-defense. Would you have let him kill me, Jane?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I am willing to bet you wouldn't have."

He shook his head. "You already know the answer to that." He looked at her with such resolve that she didn't question his sincerity. "I trusted in you that you would let me do what you know I had to do. You violated my trust, Teresa. You took my one chance at finding peace away."

"I took a violent serial killer off the streets, Jane. I did my job. I always told you I would take him down the right way, and I did." Her voice was honey soft; she knew how hurt he was that she had led him into a trap to capture Red John. She didn't expect roses from him, but she thought he'd at least be happy McAllister could hurt no other family.

"Yes, you did," he conceded. "Congratulations, Detective Lisbon."

She wasn't getting through to him at all. "Don't be condescending. Look, I came up here because I want us to have some kind of communication open. You are moping around up here and not focusing on the new cases we have coming in. It's not professional, Jane."

"Since when am I professional?" He scoffed. "I am only tied to this job for Red John, and you pretty much handled that one. I am under no obligation to stay here, Teresa." His bluish-green eyes flashed something she couldn't make out, but she had the feeling it was surrender. "This was only temporary, we both knew that."

The ground crumbled beneath her when she realized just what he was getting at. It felt akin to someone taking a wrecking ball and smashing her soul into small, fragile pieces and letting the wind carry it away. She shook her head automatically and placed a hand up between them, palm facing Jane. She felt like a scolding mother reprimanding her naughty child, but she couldn't help it.

"You're not seriously thinking about leaving the CBI?" It came out as a loud whisper. "You're going to give up?"

She watched as he slowly reached up to the lapel of his suit jacket and unclipped the silver clasp that held his CBI badge. He took a long look at it, as if admiring it for the final time before he reached out for Lisbon's wrist. Capturing her small wrist with his fingers, he placed the ID badge into her hand and closed her fingers around it.

"It was a pleasure working with you Teresa Lisbon," said Jane, dropping his hand from her wrist. "I'm just sorry the ending of our partnership wasn't a different outcome. Thank you for the chance, Teresa. At least there was that."

It wasn't until he walked by her that she snapped out of her shock and followed him to the barn-style door that was half-way open. She couldn't believe he was actually quitting! After everything they had been through together, he was just going to pack it up when things hit a rough patch between them. She knew he'd be incredibly upset with her, but she never, ever thought in a million years he'd quit on her. She thought he cared about his job more than that … cared about _her_ more than that.

"But…" She tried to argue, but nothing was coming out of her mouth. Her hand jutted out and captured the back of his suit jacket, forcing him to turn around to face her. "Is this really it?" she finally managed. "You're giving up? You're so pissed off at me that you are just going to leave?" Her heart was crumbling, her voice fighting to stay calm as tears threatened.

"You knew this was only a temporary thing, Teresa," he replied, sadness lacing his tone. "This would be a lot easier if we didn't have so much history."

"You're punishing me. The team," she rephrased, her voice betraying her strong front with a quiver. "It's not fair. You're…you're not being fair."

"I never said I was a fair man, Teresa," he said. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine. I won't do anything stupid, I promise."

"This is stupid!" she shouted at him now, frustration taking hold. She felt like she was losing a loved one. And, in a twisted way, she was. "You're being stupid!" She brought a shaking hand up to push a lock of loose hair behind her ear. "And if you want to be stupid I can't stop you!"

He smiled feebly. "Thank you, Teresa." He bent to press his lips unexpectedly to her forehead. "I will always appreciate the things you've done for me. I'm sorry things have come to this."

She closed her eyes as his warm lips touched her equally scorching skin. She felt like she was falling through a black hole, unable to find steady ground in which to brace herself on. When she had come up here tonight to speak with him, this was not the way things were supposed to go. However, if he wanted to run from things and place blame squarely on her, she'd not beg him to stay, no matter how desperate she was.

"Jane?" she whispered as he reached the door, his hand on the jamb.

"Yes?"

"Promise me something?" Low as a murmur.

"Mmm?"

A tear fell, betraying her strong stance. "Promise me you'll never come back. If you leave, you leave for good." She reached up with a shaking hand and swiped at the second of betraying tears to fall.

"Clean break?"

She nodded her head. "Clean break."

He hesitated, then nodded. He did not look back as he exited the attic, leaving her there alone in the quiet. She looked down at the CBI badge in her hand and pocketed it. She let the tears come freely now. She'd get it all out of her system before she told her team that Jane had abandoned them, abandoned _her_.

As she trembled in the dim light of the overhead lamps, she pondered if she had done the right thing and if Jane's anger with her was justified. Perhaps it was, but walking out on her was not. She was sure in that moment that she'd never forgive Patrick Jane. She'd never allow herself to fall in love with someone who blamed her enough to leave her; who clearly didn't love her back and only used her to meet his own end.

She'd never make that mistake again.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you enjoy. Thanks for the feedback. It's very appreciated. -PVB**

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 **Cracks In The Foundation – Chapter 2**

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She took a small sip of her coffee and replaced it in her car's cup holder. She checked her watch and yawned. She was sure she looked like a sleep deprived zombie, but that wasn't exactly a shock these days. At first, it hadn't been this bad; she'd coped well enough with things—a stiff drink here, a take-down of an uncooperative suspect there to make her feel better, better now that things were more serious, her coping consisted of late-night scouting and surveillance. She guessed getting only three hours of sleep a night for over four months _would_ make her look horrible.

She turned to the papers strew across the passenger side seat and frowned. She had scribbled incoherently on most of those lists when things didn't pan out It wasn't like she hadn't gotten any tantalizing leads in the case she was pursuing on her own, but it was a job scoping out people, slimming people off her list. She had set her mind to it, and she would figure it out. She wasn't sure that her recent move to the FBI sector was helping her cause. Nobody wanted to drive back into the world of the Blake Association again. As far as they were concerned, that case was closed and the group disbanded and weeded out for potential rehashing. Even Abbott, who had given her a glowing reference to the California FBI, had his reservations. Before departing back to his home base of Texas, he had warned her about delving into things that were closed. Still, she could not shake a connection to the most recent development that dived her into this…obsession.

"Obsession," she said out loud, almost laughing with how absurd it sounded. That was something Jane did, not her. She shook her head to immediately rid herself of thinking about Jane. It wasn't anything new; she had been doing that since he left a year ago. She'd catch herself and change her thoughts to something less depressing. "Get it together, Teresa."

The tap on her driver's side window nearly frightened her to death. She clutched at her rapidly beating heart and chuckled as she reached over to put the window down. Looking up at him, she could see that Virgil Minelli looked as bad as she probably did. His baggy eyes and wrinkled face peered at her, though a small smile played at the corner of his lips. Clearly, he was amused by the scare he gave her.

"You scared the crap out of me!" she exclaimed to her ex-boss. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Is there any way I can talk you out of this?" Minelli asked, pressing a folded bit of paper into her hand. "I feel like every time I give people lists, bad things happen."

She knew he was referring to the list of Red John's accomplices that Minelli had given Jane. Again, with the thoughts of Jane in her brain, she shook her head automatically to dismiss it. She looked down at the paper and back to her boss.

"Thanks, Virgil," said Lisbon. "I know you had to go through back channels for this. I appreciate the help." Without Minelli's help, she would be nowhere. He had given her two other lists with names, but her digging and scouring around had easily wiped the names on them off. This one, she hoped, would be more promising.

She glanced back down at the paper and scanned the names. Some names she did not recognize, but others she did, including a judge she had once used to get a warrant for Tommy Volker. She was surprised to find her name there, but even more astonished when she came across Agent Gabe Mancini of the FBI, who was not part of the CBI as the others on each list had been.

"Mancini?" Her voice picked up in disbelief as she glanced at Minelli. "He's FBI. I'm thinking more along the lines of CBI."

He sighed and blew out an exaggerated breath. "What about O'Laughlin? He was FBI. Or what about Smith? He's gone MIA, and he was in the group and also an FBI official." He hesitated for a second, and then, "You can't trust anyone, Teresa. This is why this is so ridiculous! You're going to get yourself killed diving into this! Especially if what you say is true!"

"The Blake Association is just as responsible for Red John's crimes as he was, Virgil! They covered up his crimes for him. Letting this go would be like letting Red John go, and we both know how that went, don't we?" She bit back the rest of what she was thinking. It wouldn't do her any good to continue her rant. He knew the unspoken feelings. She could see it in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

She felt him reach in and place a hand on her slim shoulder. "If this is about Jane, I'm sure he wouldn't want you to take any unnecessary risks." He met her gaze evenly, but he knew she wouldn't admit it to him. Even if she hadn't come to him almost a year ago and poured her heart out to him, he would still have guessed it had to do with Jane.

"It's not," she insisted. "This is about getting every last one of those bastards, Virgil. The FBI won't listen to me, but I am _telling_ you that something is going on."

"You can't go this alone, Teresa," he told her in a fatherly tone. "You have to get help from somewhere if you really insist on continuing with this stupid mission of yours." He sighed. "I worry, Teresa."

"You know Van Pelt and Rigsby have a new baby," she told him, "and can't get involved. Cho is my boss now. Do you think he'd let me do this if he knew?"

"Maybe if…"

"No," she replied immediately, shaking her brunette hair around her shoulders. "I'm not tracking down Jane. I said what I meant, and I don't want him around."

"You are still a terrible liar," Minelli said with a soft chuckle. "You were irrational, and you regret it, but instead of correcting the problem, you are being completely stubborn!" He let go of her shoulder. "Not everyone has the moral compass you do. His anger was justified, just like your actions were. But it's pointless to tell you that because you won't listen. I don't expect anything less." He sighed once again and leaned down into the window. "Please tell me you are going to be safe, Teresa. Don't do anything stupid."

She laughed and watched as he stood back. He watched her start her car and back out, wave to him, and head off. He waited until the last of her tail lights were around the corner before he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a familiar number and waited.

"Cho," he said as soon as the other end became active, "she's on the move. You might want to find Jane. He's the only one that is going to either get her killed or help her out. Either way, I think it's time."

Minelli felt dirty for snitching on his best agent of old, but he couldn't live with himself if something happened to her, and he knew that Cho could not contain her, no matter how much he threatened her. She'd just do it, anyway. The only person who could keep her in check abandoned her, but somehow, Minelli could only see this ending one way if Jane didn't come back to help her out.

He shuddered at the thought of Lisbon's demise as he listened to Cho tell him they located Patrick Jane. He shuddered again for what this possible reunion could do for their already broken foundation.

* * *

 **Reno, Nevada,** **24 hours later**

The stagnant air around him comforted him somehow. The thick cigar smoke lingering around the bar was like an old friend greeting him every night. The blaring lights and music thumped wildly around him as he stared at his nearly empty glass of Cognac. A year of sitting at the same place, at the same time every night made the whole drinking-at-the-bar thing kind of stale.

He felt the same as he did the day he left the CBI and his makeshift family. He was beaten down and worn so thin that he was an open book to people, not that anyone ever came up to him and actually spoke with him besides the barman. He had resorted to past behavior, including swindling people into believing he could tell the past, present, and future, and mingling in some little counting cards from one of the casinos scattered around, and making some decent cash to sustain himself. It wasn't Vegas, but it was good enough. By day, he was the old Patrick Jane from long ago, and by night he was a sad, depraved man who was just trying to live out his life in solitude knowing he would never feel the satisfaction of avenging his dead family.

The one thing he still thought about was Lisbon. He was still upset with her for what she had done, but the months had shaved some of that away. Rational thoughts stole his anger from him and replaced it with common sense with what she thought was the right thing to do at the time. Still, he could not envision himself seeing her again, which is why he decided to move away from her and the memories she invoked, both negative and positive. He still couldn't forgive her for betraying him so badly.

He picked up his glass, downed the last bit of booze, and lifted himself from the bar. Slapping a ten down on the counter, he turned and made his way (swaying just a little) back to his room just above the bar. It had been an extra room for the barman, but when he didn't need it, it was offered on a prorated basis to Jane, who took it. It was better than living in his old, cramped car, which is what he was doing before.

It took him a few tries in his inebriated state to get the key in, but finally, the door swung open and he went in. He made his way through the small living area and sat on the couch. After years of sleeping on Lisbon's couch and the bullpen couch, a bed wasn't exactly comfortable for him anymore. Besides, he hated sleeping in a bed alone. He hadn't really wanted to sleep in a bed since Angela's death, but a necessity for the job didn't allow him to choose often.

"How did you find me?" Jane asked, his eyes focusing on the chair to his right.

He had seen Kimball Cho's outline when he entered but decided to wait until he grounded himself from the booze spinning his head around in waves. He couldn't really be shocked that he was here—he was astonished that one of the team members hadn't come sooner. He wouldn't lie to himself, he thought it would be Lisbon.

"I'm a detective," Cho told him bluntly. "You just hid poorly."

"Friends in high places." He chuckled. "I wasn't exactly hiding." He looked at his old colleague for the first time and noticed he had aged considerably. "You look like hell."

Cho nodded. "Thanks. You look like the hounds of hell dragged you back up and spit you out," he answered. "I guess we're even."

"I guess we are," Jane conceded. "What are you doing here?"

"We need your help."

"I'm not going back, Cho," he said with an unsteady shake of his head. "I am finished. I meant it."

Cho reached beside him and pulled out a folder. "This will change your mind."

Jane stared at the folder for a few seconds, trying to outweigh the curiosity hitting him squarely in the chest and the need to distance himself from anything that had to do with his former profession as a consultant. His heavy-lidded eyes rose to meet Cho's. If he took this folder, he wasn't sure his resolute stance to never go back would hold. In fact, it was pure intuition that told him so. Sometimes he hated how in tuned to himself he was.

"Why didn't Lisbon just come here herself?' he asked finally, a tingle riding sharply down his back as he said her name for the first time in a long time. "I'm assuming she sent you."

"She's in trouble," Cho replied succinctly.

His eyes darted back down to the folder, and he felt himself reach for it, snagging it from Cho. "And you think I can help her?" His eyes raised back up for a brief moment to once again meet the agent's eyes. "You think I _want_ to help her?"

"I think you'd do exactly as she did for you when you needed it." He was straightforward. "If you don't help her, she's going to be in deep crap. You owe her for all the time she put up with your crap."

He shook his disheveled locks at Cho. "I don't do that anymore, Cho. And…" he hesitated. He wanted to say that he didn't think he could help her, but he knew that was a lie. No matter what Lisbon was into, he was sure he could. But with everything she had done to him, he didn't think he _would_ help her. But then, Cho was correct. She had stepped up and helped him in his hour of need.

Cho sighed heavily and ambled to his feet. He was clearly ready to leave, but Jane wasn't willing to let him go just yet. He rose, too, and took the folder from his old team member. There were no words needed, and Cho didn't say anything as he opened the folder inside.

"She's poking around where she shouldn't be," Cho told him as he watched his eyes scan the folder. "I don't need to tell you what the Blake Association can do. You've lived with what they can do."

His face contorted at the mention of the faction of police and high-up officials that participated in corruption and ethic code violations. "The other reason is the fact she doesn't want my help," he concluded, looking down at the single sheet of paper inside, trying not to focus on the Blake Association mention. "They were disbanded, weren't they?" He looked at Cho in slight confusion. "Let me guess," he said with a deep, rattling sigh, "something else came to the surface."

"You could say that," was Cho's honest reply. "That's another reason I am here. You got her into this mess, even if you didn't pull the strings yourself. Since you abandoned us, she's been swinging on the deep end, Jane. She's taking risks that she shouldn't."

"We had an understanding." Well, maybe not about her taking risks like she seemed to be doing. It sounded like this was her way of coping. He knew when he left her in that dusty, dirty attic that he had broken her heart. It did not take a mentalist to see the shattered pieces on the floor around her.

He glanced over the folder, and it seemed that something did indeed slip to the surface. Reede Smith escaped a maximum-security prison somehow—he would correctly assume with some help from members of the BA that were not so closely scrutinized and passed on because of how insignificant they were. Or, an even scarier thought, it was someone so high up that nobody would suspect was involved in the group.

"Maybe she didn't understand you as well as you thought." Cho's voice broke in, but it was distant and almost like bad reception.

 _Yeah_ , Jane thought, _how astute_. "How is Lisbon involved in this?"

"She believes someone helped Smith break out of jail," Cho explained. "She's been trying to track him down, but he's always one step ahead of her. She thinks someone within the old CBI circle is helping him and trying to get the BA back together again on the low." Cho sniffed the air stiffly. "She's treading in bad territory, Jane."

"Didn't you try to stop her?"

"You've met Teresa Lisbon before, right? Yeah, I think we both know why we didn't. She's getting reckless." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She learned from the master." His eyes trained on Jane pointedly.

He sighed heavily and closed the folder. He licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to keep himself steady on his feet. There was no way he could help her. Going back wasn't an option for him. He couldn't deal with what she had done, and he had distinctly remembered her "clean break" she wanted from him. How would she feel even knowing Cho came all this way to ask for his help in whatever occurred? He wasn't even sure how _he_ felt about it.

He handed the folder back to Cho and sat back down on the couch. "I can't do it, Cho. I'm sorry. It's not what I do anymore."

"You're leaving her high and dry. I get it. I thought you'd try to repay her any way you could for what she's done for you." He walked past Jane before turning around as he got to the door. "Even if you hated the ending, Jane, she was there for you all the way to the end." He turned and opened the door. "Now you want to fade away when her life is in danger. _You're a coward_."

He closed his eyes and let Cho's words confuse and constrict his mind. He knew he was right; Lisbon had been the only one to see him as a human being and less like a victim like everyone else had. She had, indeed, stayed by his side even to the bitter end when she decided to take matters into her own hands. He always told her he'd spend his life owing her, and he still meant every word of it. And he knew Lisbon valued her job—coveted it even. He owed her something, even if he still was bitter with her about the way things ended. He owed her his help, as she owed him his revenge. He didn't expect her to make good on her end, but he had a chance to at least pay her back for her kindness and help over the years. From what he could gather, she was in a very serious situation with dire consequences. He knew from experience how that could turn out. It happened to him years ago.

"Cho," he said softly, rising to his feet unsteadily, "wait."

"Change your mind?" Cho asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "It's probably the alcohol doing it, but I have a way to repay her for what she did for me up until Red John's death." He shook his head. "But I won't stay. I help her and then I leave her, understood?"

Cho raised an eyebrow. "Fine," he told him. "Wouldn't be the first time."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Please enjoy. A bland chapter at best, but hopefully makes you laugh a little. Thanks for the reviews. I'll be better at responding to them. -PVB**_

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"No couch?" Jane asked.

He and Cho were standing in Sacramento's premiere FBI office. The long, open bullpen stretched out on either side, leading to two sets of elevators on either end. The floor, Jane noted, was polished so clearly that he could see both of their reflections in perfect detail. The walls, made of light granite, were much the same way, but the bright rays of sunlight from the windows that almost wound the entire length of the bullpen cast deep shadows below them, making the granite look darker than normal.

The desks were all lined up in rows of five; neatly posed so that Cho could see every one of his agents, Jane guessed. Cho always did have a good leadership skill, and the precision of the desks just proved that. Jane's eyes scanned each desk. His goal was to locate Lisbon's desk without being told which one it was, and he knew it wouldn't be hard to find; Lisbon was a little messy but took pride in making the mess look organized. His bluish-green eyes scanned every desk, but the only one that fit Lisbon to a T was one at the very back of the third row—papers were messily stacked on her desk, but placed in one corner, as to not make it look so bad. Plus, he noted with a small smile, there was a coffee cup from her favorite coffee place—he could never forget that, no matter how much he tried to rid himself of those types of memories.

"Don't press your luck," Cho told him, "this isn't the CBI."

"Is she here?" He ignored Cho's remark. It didn't matter about the couch. He wouldn't be here long enough to fully enjoy it, anyway. "Is Lisbon here?" He doubted so; she was a dedicated worker and would no doubt be doing paperwork in her small-yet-messy writing. Plus, he wasn't sure exactly how either would react, so he secretly hoped she was not.

His suspicions and hopes were realized when Cho shook his head. "She does this all the time. She comes in for briefings, and I send her out to look for leads."

"Instead she's looking into Smith's escape," Jane finished. He didn't want to add anything about the Blake Association, though he knew that was a large portion of Lisbon's mission. "She's on a suicide mission," he whispered mainly to himself. He knew that no matter if Cho threatened her with suspension, she'd still be out looking for information, anyway.

"Try telling _her_ that," Cho told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, she doesn't know I know what she's doing," he answered off Jane's look. "Minelli told me what she's doing and where he thinks she's going." He paused a few seconds before adding, "It would have been an unnecessary and risky move to let her know I knew what she was up to. She'd go twice as hard. We both know that. But she's getting too far into it, now. Dangerous territory."

Jane arched a perfect eyebrow. "Minelli? She's gone deep for favors, huh?" He supposed that was a tad harsh, but he still had resentment and anger inside him for her. "So how do you keep eyes on her?" He wasn't a complete douchebag—he still worried for her safety, considering what she was diving into and whom she was trying to get information on.

Cho nodded his head toward one of the desks in the front of the bullpen. Behind a large computer screen, and clicking away on the keyboard enthusiastically, sat a blond-haired man—kid, really—scanning the monitor before him studiously. When he saw that Cho and Jane had approached, he stopped hammering on the keys and stood (a little too eagerly, Jane noticed), giving them a large, nervous smile.

"Sir!" the blond-haired kid greeted, "is everything okay?" The smile dropped into a look of restrained horror.

"Yeah," said Cho simply. Jane could tell Cho was used to the mousy, nervous demeanor and dismissed it. "This is Patrick Jane," he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "He's a consultant."

 _Consultant_. Well, Jane hadn't heard himself referred to like that in a while. He guessed it was the only role he'd ever get—everything else seemed too far-fetched or just plain stupid. Perhaps some of them were even vulgar. He could recall a few times in Reno that someone had called him a "freak" and "traveling carnival" to put it nicely. _It doesn't matter_ , he thought to himself _, I'll be back to making peanuts soon enough as some obscure sideshow in a stuffy, crowded bar_.

"Hey, Mr. Jane," said the kid, his smile once again illuminating his face. "I've heard a lot about you! My name is Jason Wylie. Well, some of my friends call me Coyote, but…" he trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His friends were knuckleheads, but they were great fun. "I'm the nerd around here. Er," he looked to Cho, and then back to Jane. "I'm the technical wizard around here," he amended. Clearly, he had gotten in trouble before for the unprofessional term.

"Probably not good things if it came from Cho or Lisbon," Jane quipped.

Wylie chuckled. "There may have been some name calling," Wylie teased, extending his hand for Jane to shake. Jane doubted the teasing nature of Wylie's comment was actually what the mood was like when his name erupted from their lips, though.

Jane took Wylie's extended hand. "Please," he told him, "call me Jane." He dropped Wylie's hand and smiled warmly at him. "Nice to meet you, Wylie."

"He's been tracking Lisbon through the GPS on her FBI vehicle and on her phone when she's away from the car," Cho told him, cutting to the chase and picking up the conversation. "At least we know where she is."

As if that were a cue, Wylie pointed to the screen. "She's on the move." He bent over the keyboard, plucking at the keys as Jane and Cho joined him, watching from over his shoulder as a map popped up on screen, a red dot ascending slowly. Jane was instantly reminded of those 3D maps of neighborhoods. "Oh! She's stopping." He pointed to the dot, which was indeed coming to a halt. "Residential area," he elaborated, clicking even more keys. "About twenty minutes from where we are now."

"Can you narrow down the address? Owner?" That was Cho.

"Sure." Wylie stretched the word out as he clicked even more buttons and used the mouse to zoom into the dot. "247 Grandview." He turned to Cho and Jane. "Gabriel Mancini owns the property according to local tax records."

Jane's skin crawled at the name. He _loathed_ Gabe Mancini. One reason was because the guy was partners with Reede Smith and Jane didn't believe for a second that Mancini had no idea about Smith's involvement with Blake Association. He always thought there was more to Mancini than just the FBI partner of a known murderer and foot soldier. But there was another reason for the reaction; Mancini had shown a romantic type interest in Lisbon. He didn't know why that bothered him or why he even cared, but he did. It was almost involuntary. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Cho," Jane said, turning to the agent, "I think I'm going to need your car keys."

"You want to go there now?" Cho asked.

"Yes."

"And you want to go without proper backup?"

Jane shrugged. "You're not in charge of me and I'm not being paid." He pointed to Wylie. "He can keep tabs on us in case we need backup if you're worried."

Wylie beamed and nodded ardently.

Cho stared at him for just a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys, handing them to Jane. "Okay." He turned to walk away, then turned back. "I was talking about a backup for _you_ when Lisbon knows you're back." He walked away then, leaving Jane and Wylie standing there alone.

"Oh," Jane whispered, "right." He was still angry at her, and she was angry and hurt with him. "That should be fun."

* * *

She knew Gabe Mancini wasn't home. It wasn't his closed blinds in his modest-looking home that told her that. It wasn't even the lack of cars in the driveway; it was the fact that he worked in the very same building as she did, only a few floors up and on a different team. She was supposed to be working, too, on leads for Cho. Well, people in hell wanted ice water, now didn't they? She could do both. Hell, she'd been helping Jane with Red John for years and years while chasing down leads for her other cases.

She was still thinking of excuses for what she was about to do when she strolled up to the front door of Mancini's home. She knew nobody would answer, but that would lessen the suspicion of neighbors in case she made her way around the back. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do if he answered; she hadn't had to do this with other people on the list because she just walked into their places of business and snooped around without raising suspicions (she just flashed her badge quickly to assistants, secretaries, and business partners). She was no Jane, but she was well adept at interrogating someone. She was only sorry that none of her hard work had produced a solid lead. It seemed like nobody knew anything about Smith's escape or the BA.

It wasn't in her nature to just break into someone else's home. In fact, she'd never really done it before. But a lot of things changed. She had her morals, but when it came to Smith's escape and the people who might have had a hand in it, those morals took a back seat. She also had suspicions and inclinations that something wasn't right. Someone had to help him escape, and the possibilities were on those lists Minelli gave her. Someone knew more than what they put on. Someone was overlooked when the FBI raided the CBI. Someone snuck through the cracks that was a part of BA. Nobody else wanted to help her or believe her, so she was her own best friend at the moment.

As expected, she did not get an answer from the front door. One thing she learned from some of the thieves she had put behind bars was you never looked around before you wandered around the target house. If you are going to do something illegal, you better act like you belong there, otherwise, you'd be easy to spot for nosy neighbors. So that is what she did. Instead of looking around her, she wandered slowly through the small gate to the left of the house, slipping past the line of view easily. She felt dirty doing this, but she had to know. She couldn't live with herself if this hunch of hers was right and she let it go.

"Perfect," she moaned, her green eyes zeroing in on a solid looking set of glass doors beyond a small courtyard just in front of her. "No chance in hell of getting in there." _Well_ , she thought to herself, _at least there is no dog to contend with_. Her luck wasn't completely out because just beside the set of doors stood a slightly ajar window, its screen down as if to get fresh air. She felt something in the pit of her stomach; what if someone was actually here? She always thought Mancini was a bachelor, but what if he wasn't now? God, how unprepared could one cop be to break and enter a colleague's home?

She scoffed at that, set her shoulders, and walked over to the small window; it looked pretty small, but she was sure she could make it. She looked around for something to stand on, and found an empty, heavy terracotta pot a few feet away. She dragged it over the soft earth and placed it in front of the window.

"So this is what it has come to," she whispered as she climbed up the pot, thankful she wore her boots instead of her high-heeled shoes. "Jane was a terrible influence! Terrible!" she said fiercely, her rule of not thinking about him forgotten. "How did he make it look so easy?"

She sighed heavily as she slowly pulled the screen up. She was shocked at how easy it lifted. She looked instinctually from side-to-side before she placed her head and torso inside. She found she was inside the kitchen, and currently leaning over the kitchen sink, the faucet poking her in the ribs. She pushed herself further inside, waiting until her legs and feet cleared the screen before she twisted herself enough to hop off of the sink and counter.

So far so good. It didn't seem as if anyone was home. It was silent as she tip-toed her way through the kitchen—which was clean…a little too clean for a single guy—and into the small dining room just off from it. She wasn't even sure where she should start. Snooping in people's belongings for evidence she wasn't even sure they had seemed to have a certain way of confusing her. She didn't plan this well, but that would describe everything since Jane left. She didn't plan things when he left; the need to fill his void in her life became a need to be reckless and…obsessive? Would she really say that about herself? She wasn't Jane…. was she?

That obsession that drove Jane almost ruined his…their lives. It still did, but the difference was that both of them came out unscathed as far as repercussions from the law was concerned. Mentally, physically, and partnership wise, it had been a complete and total disaster. And, if she was being honest with herself, she could have seen it coming a mile away. She knew how much revenge meant to him, but she wasn't about to visit him from behind bars for a few moments' satisfaction. Jane, however, wasn't down on his knees thanking her afterward. He didn't speak to her for a few days after, and when he finally did talk to her, it was brusque and anguished.

She shook the memories of his cold and distant treatment toward her from her mind and picked up a few bits of mail lying on an entry way table just inside the front door. Electric bill, some take-out menu, and a few other letters that didn't look important. She suspected that he worked from home sometimes like she did, and would have an upstairs office that might hold some information she'd find useful.

"It's too clean," she muttered to herself, noting that everything was in its place. The kitchen was one place to be overly cleanly, but a space with a big screen TV and a single man who had a football on his desk at work seemed a little odd to her. "You've hung around Patrick Jane too long," she breathed, shaking her head and heading up the stairs. "That is not a good spot to be in."

She opened two doors before finding the home office. One was his bedroom (surprise, surprise, so clean you could eat off the floor), and the other was a spacious bathroom that held no paperwork she wanted to read. The home office was large, with a wide, wooden desk in the center. On the other wall, there were filing cabinets lining the bottom, and a small door leading to a closet, she presumed.

"Holy hell," she exclaimed as her eyes tore over the filing cabinets. How would she get through all of that without skipping anything? What the hell did he keep in there, bills from the '70's when platform shoes were the rage?

She sighed heavily and put all her resolve into looking into Mancini's files. Something had to be in there. She pulled open one of the file drawers, her fingers nimbly flicking through the folders. It was mostly his credentials from his time at San Francisco PD and a bunch of newspaper clippings of crimes he helped solve. It wasn't until she was reaching for the second file drawer that she heard a noise from downstairs. If she strained her ears, it sounded to her like it was the front door opening and closing.

"Crap!" she breathed, instinctually looking at the door. It sounded as if someone were walking around down there. Her eyes tore from the door to look for some way out. The window, she could see, was too high up for her to use as an escape. She pushed a hand through her hair and debated whether or not she could make it out of the front door without whoever was downstairs noticing. The answer she gave herself was no. "Crap!"

She silently made her way to the door she assumed was a closet and opened it. It indeed was a closet, and there was just enough room for her slender body to slip inside. She closed the door just as she heard footsteps treading up the stairs. In the darkness, she couldn't see much. She could only wait as the footsteps went from one side of the house to the other, opening doors and shutting them. It was almost like they knew where they were going, but were looking for something in particular.

"Please don't come in here," she whispered. It didn't work, because a few seconds later, she heard the door to the home office creak open. She closed her eyes as she listened to the footsteps pad over the hardwood floor. She opened her eyes when the footsteps stopped.

She felt like she was standing there for hours, but it was only a few seconds. She had thought whoever came in had gone, since she hadn't heard anything for a minute or so. This was not correct, however, because in the next moment, the door was wretched open.

In automatic response, Lisbon lifted her fist and punched the face that came through the open door. She grunted in surprise while the victim of the punch grunted in pain.

"OUCH!" they said, lifting their fingers up. "Teresa, it's me, Jane!"

Another punch.

"It's Patrick Jane," they said again.

Again, another punch clocked him on the nose, causing blood to drop onto his clothing and shoes.

"STOP PUNCHING ME!" he yelled, blocking another of her punches. "It's me, Teresa. Jane!"

Lisbon dropped her hand and narrowed her eyes, her mouth set in a heavy frown. "I know!" she told him. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"If I tell you, promise me you won't punch me again."

"Cho called you, didn't he?" She shook her head. "Goddamn it, Cho!"

"Ow," he said, wiggling his bloody nose. "That didn't change any."

"How did you even get in here? The window?"

"Window?" He shook his head. He reached into his pocket with the hand not holding his nose and held up a lock pick set. "Picked the lock." He lowered his hand from his nose.

That was a mistake. She punched him for a fourth time, taking him by surprise.

"What the hell was _that_ for?" he asked, his eyes watering as he closed off his nose again.

"Coming back here when I told you to never come back!"

She moved passed him and started for the door. She nearly made it out of the room before he spun her around by her elbow. She wasn't expecting to be so close to him, and she gasped when her body melded against his from the velocity of the turn.

"I came back to help you," he told her. "And it was against my better judgment."

"Then go back," she told him. "I don't want you here."

"If this is about the BA and Smith, I have every right to be here and know what you think you have here. I didn't come back for you," he told her, and he knew it would sting. He had meant it to. "I came back for this mission you are on." It was a lie, but his anger was not helped by time or distance. It was as fresh as it was when it happened. "The clean break you wanted is still intact, Teresa. Smith's escape concerns me. When it is done, I'll leave. This is business." A damn dirty lie only he'd know. It was about keeping her safe, too, no matter his anger at her. He still had gallantry. She was pulling him back in.

She shook her head at him. "I see you haven't changed."

"Neither have you."

"Well, then, with that out of the way, I don't need your help."

Outside, a car door slammed. Both their eyes went to the window and back.

"Oh, I think you do," he said with a smirk. "Mancini's home."


End file.
